


BOYS

by nogitsuniah



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Rape, Religious Guilt, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 16:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10575522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nogitsuniah/pseuds/nogitsuniah
Summary: "Boys can't like boys. Boys can't like boys. Boys can't-"-Tyler is not straight, but he desperately wishes he was. Josh only makes matters worse.





	1. "Boys Can't Like Boys"

**Author's Note:**

> first fic on here whaddup

Six year old Tyler sat hunched forward in a chair too tall for his feet to reach the floor. With his elbows on his knees, his small hands propped up his face, smushing his cheeks. The laces of his untied sneakers dangled as he absentmindedly swung his legs. 

_Back and forth._

_Back and forth._

Tyler let out a sigh as he let his eyes roam the room he knew all too well;

The principal's office.

 

Certificates, and other things of the sort, decorated the navy blue walls. In front of him sat a large mahogany desk. On top of it was a small lamp, various papers stacked in neat, organized piles, and a solid, dark green mug plastered with the words, ** _"Worlds Best Mom."_ **

The midday sunlight shone through the wooden blinds of the large window behind the desk. The light bathed the room in warmth, sucking all of the energy out of the small boy, who sat placid and lazy, waiting to face the the judgment of his recent crimes.

The door behind him groaned as it opened. In walked Principal Dowling, along with his mother, and suddenly, Tyler felt much more aware of his situation. He sat up in his seat and his gaze dropped to watch his hands as he played with his fingers. Principal Dowling made her way over to her big leather desk chair, and his mother took a seat in the cushioned wooden chair adjacent to his.

Mrs. Dowling push aside a stack of papers and folded her hands on top of the desk. "Mrs. Joseph, I'm assuming you already have an idea of why you've been called here today, considering that it's the 3th time this month we've had a situation like this occur."

Tyler's mother let out a frustrated puff of air. "Yes, I'm sure I do." she turned her head to him and he could feel her hard, blue eyed stare picking him apart.

Principle Dowling opened her mouth to speak, then promptly shut it again.  "Actually, Tyler, why don't I let you explain to your mother what you did this time." Tyler felt his his heart fall into his stomach. 

"IKissedMasonOnTheCheek," he mumbled, quietly.

" _Tyler._ " His mother said in a stern voice. She was in no mood for this.

"I–" Tyler wished for his body to melt into a puddle right there in his seat, "I kissed Mason on the cheek."

Tyler's mother closed her eyes and sighed, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Mrs. Joseph, this is a strictly Christian academy. We have no tolerance for..." Principle Dowling paused and tried her best to hold back a cringe, "things of the sort... If this pattern of behavior continues I will have no choice but to suspend Tyler."

Tyler's mother sat up straighter in her seat. "Suspend him? He's only in the _first grade_. Don't you think that's a little ridiculous?"

"No, actually I don't," said Mrs. Dowling, "Like I said, this is a strictly Christian school. Now, I'm not sure what you're teaching him at home, but–"

Tyler mother abruptly cut Mrs. Dowling off. " _We_ aren't teaching him any of this at home. I don't know where he's getting that this is okay, but it is most definitely _not_ from home. Our family is completely, and wholly devoted to Christ."

"Well, if that's the case, then I have no doubt that you will be able to get Tyler fixed." Mrs. Dowling said.

For some reason, the word _Fixed_ , filled Tyler deep with an icy rush of dread. He wasn't even really sure what he needed to be fixed of, but the idea of it made him feel sick.

"Don't worry," his mother assured, "We will."

And that was that.

 

Later that day, after Tyler had gotten home from spending the rest of his day in the principals office, his mother called him into the kitchen. She was seated at the dinner table with her hands folded in her lap. "Take a seat, Tyler." She said.

Tyler shuffled over and took a seat in the one next to hers. "Yes?"

"Tyler, why on Earth would you kiss Mason on the cheek? First it was the note," Tyler distinctly remembered the picture he had drawn for the other boy. It was a drawing of the two of them holding hands, surrounded by hearts in every color Tyler had in his box of crayons. Across the top in bright yellow, it read,  _ **'U R The Best!'**_  followed by a lopsided smiley face.

Tyler had thought it was his best work. 

"-Then you went around telling the other kids that you were going to marry Mason. Now this. Do you realize  that his mother is never going to let you over to their house again now that she knows what you did?"

Tyler's eyes began to water. How could Mason's mother do that? Mason was Tyler's friend. Mason made Tyler all smiley, and like there was something fluttering around inside his stomach.

"Because- because-" Tyler sniffled and tears threatened to fall from his caramel brown eyes,"I thought Mason liked me. I thought he would want me to kiss his cheek. You and daddy like each other. Isn't that why you guys kiss sometimes?"

"Tyler..." his mother sighed. "Mason doesn't like you. Not like that, anyway."

"Yeah, obviously not, he told on me!" Tyler exclaimed. Tears were now free falling down his cheeks.

Tyler's mother scooted closer to him and took his small shaking hands in hers. She took one hand and wiped away a slow falling tear. "Baby, Mason couldn't like you even if he wanted to. Boys can't like boys. It's wrong."

Tyler frowned through his tears. Boys weren't allowed to like boys?

"W-what?"

Tyler's mother rubbed a thumb over his  hands. "In the bible, God says that boys can't like other boys, it's a sin. People who sin go to Hell. Do you want to go to Hell, Tyler?"

Tyler rapidly shook his head. He loved God. He didn't want to end up in Hell. He began to cry harder.

"Momma, I don't want to go to Hell! I don't want to go to Hell!" He sobbed  and said over and over.

His mother shushed him and pulled him over into her arms.  "And you won't, but you have to stop, okay?" She ran a soothing hand over his back, "You have to stop thinking about boys in ways that aren't right if you want to make it to Heaven. You want to go to Heaven, right?"

Tyler nodded and sniffed as his tears began to slow.

"Good, good. But, that means you have to stop. Can you do that, Tyler? Can you stop thinking about boys in that way?" His mother asked.

Tyler nodded, even though, in all truthfulness, he wasn't sure if he actually could. But, even so, he would try as hard as humanly possible.

His mother took his hand and squeezed it. "Boys can't like other boys, Tyler. Say it with me, _boys can't like boys_."

Tyler repeated the phrase back to her, and tried desperately to mean it. "Boys can't like boys." He said.

"Good," his mother said, "Boys can't like boys."

They chanted it together, "Boys can't like boys. Boys can't like boys."

After their talk, Tyler went up stairs to his room for bed. As he laid under his thick blanket, his thoughts drifted to Mason, and the goofy feeling he got in his stomach whenever he was around him. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly. Immediately, he pushed out the thought and replaced it with a new one.

_Boys can't like boys._

He repeated the words over and over in his head.

_Boys can't like boys. Boys can't like boys. Boys can't like boys._

He thought of Mason again, and how he made him feel like sunshine.

**_Boys can't like boys._ **

 

 

Tyler cried himself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> josh is coming within the next chapter or so, patience my friends


	2. "You'll Like This"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw; implied rape

Tyler sat, rapidly tapping his pencil against his desk. His leg bounced relentlessly with anxiousness. Anxious over what? Tyler didn't know anymore. Only seventeen years and he was nothing more than skin, bones, and self destruction. A walking embodiment of despair and chaos. His head an unstoppable storm-like force that never seemed to rest.

He was tired. He was so goddamn tired, but he couldn't sleep. He couldn't stop for even a second, because everything around him raced endlessly and he had to somehow keep up. He had to.

"Tyler," a voice said, but was muffled and drowned out by his raging thoughts. "Tyler."

His head jerked up. He was met with a set of stern green eyes, hidden behind a pair of reading glasses. "Yes, Mr. Beckstead?"

Mr. Beckstead was Tyler's 5th period trigonometry teacher. He was a short, stocky man with curly greying hair and a scruffy beard. He had a face shaped like a pear and a large, ever so slightly crooked nose. His small peachy lips never curled into a smile, but only an ugly frown whenever annoyed, (which was more often than not.)

"Could you please stop tapping?" Mr. Beckstead hissed, then paused and glanced down at Tyler's blank sheet of classwork. "Tyler. Nothing on this paper is done."

Tyler opened his mouth to speak. His brain scrambled for an excused, before realizing that he didn't actually have one. "I'm beginning to get the impression that you are actually trying to fail my class."

Tyler quickly shook his his head."No, I just- I-"  

"Save it." Mr. Beckstead interrupted, "My classroom, today after school. You're going to finish every assignment you have out and I'm going to watch you. Since you obviously have no intention to do it on your own time."  

"But, I have basketball practice after school!" Tyler exclaimed. Basketball was the one thing Tyler could do without a doubt in his mind. It was the only thing keeping him from losing the last piece of his mind he had left. He'd stay outside for hours, dribbling and shooting at the basketball hoop in the driveway of his house. When he missed a shot, or messed up while practicing ball-handling, he'd run. He'd run until his body heaved for air and his lungs threatened to burst from his chest.

It's hard to think about much of anything when you're worn to it's max. And that was exactly Tyler's logic. If he could work himself to the point of absolute exhaustion, then, and only then, was when his brain would finally stop. Even if only for a moment, it had stopped nonetheless, and that split second was all he needed.

Mr. Beckstead did something rare. He cocked his head to the side, and painting itself on one half of his mouth, in only spite, was a smile.

"Then I guess you'd better work quickly."    

-x-

Books, binders, and unorganized papers spilled from Tyler's backpack and he clutched it to his chest with one arm. The other arm gripped the strap of his gym back as he sprinted in the direction of the gym. The doors crashed open, shattering the quiet of the gym,  as he came barreling in. The team was standing in a huddle in the middle of the gym. Everyone's heads whipped around at once, and suddenly Tyler could feel twelve pairs of eyes burning through him at once. 

Coach Emerson looked like had might been in the middle of speaking before Tyler had come bursting in, but now his lips were pursed together in a tight, angry line. He locked eyes with Tyler for a moment, letting out a huff of disappointment before resuming back to speaking. "Anyway, as I was saying, good work today, guys. I really believe we're gonna have another win on our hands this week, I truly do. But, we gotta bring it to 'em. Everybody in." The team nodded in agreement then shuffled closer to the middle, all putting one fist in the air. Coach counted up to three, then together the team yelled their team motto, _"CTC!"_  Which stood for _"Change The Culture,"_  something Coach Emerson really pushed for this years team. In past years the boys basketball team had been tragically lacking in both skill and drive, but this team was different. Coach was hopeful in this group of boys, and was ready to change the reputation for the team.

After breaking out the practice, team dispersed into the locker room to shower and go home, Tyler turned to leave, feeling absolutely defeated from missing the whole practice. 

"Joseph!" Coach yelled, calling Tyler by just his last name, as he did with all his players, "Where do you think you're going?" 

Tyler turned back to face him, "Um, home, Coach."

Coach Emerson let a bitter chuckle fall from his lips. "Home? Not without doing punishment you're not."

Tyler deadpanned. He seen other players do all sorts of exhausting exercise in punishment for missing practice or failing classes, but Tyler had never missed a practice in his life, and though his grades weren't good, his somehow always managed to drag along a steady C minus. He had never had to worry about doing punishment. Not until now at least. 

"Baker!" Coach called out to the player, who had already been making his way to the locker room. "I gotta get home, My daughter's got a soccer game tonight. Joseph's got thirty-five down and backs, baseline to baseline. He doesn't leave until he does them all."

Tyler internally groaned. Andy Baker was the vice principal's son, and after Tyler, he was the team's top scorer. Though the two of them managed to be able to cooperate just enough to win games, outside of the court, he and Tyler despised each other.

Andy had piercing grey-blue eyes and sandy blonde hair. His smooth, easy charm, and dazzling smile had a way of making everyone love him. Everyone except Tyler, who saw right through his facade. Everything about him got underneath Tyler's skin. 

Andy settle his eyes on Tyler's and smirked, "You got it, coach."

Tyler trudged into the locker room and threw on his practice uniform and basketball shoes. When he returned to the gym, Andy sat, leaned back in the last row of bleachers with his elbows rested up on the row behind him. His face was straight apart from the small, smug smile that tugged at one side of his mouth. Tyler groaned, quiet enough so that Andy didn't hear, and makes his way over to one side of the court. Without missing a beat, Tyler takes off sprinting. Down and back, down and back, until his legs are on fire and lungs are screaming at him. 

Every now and then, through tired eyes Tyler would glance over at Andy, half expecting him to not be paying much attention, but he always was. His smug smile never leaving his face. Something in his stare made Tyler dreadfully uncomfortable. If he wasn't so tired, and drenched in sweat, the hairs on the back of his neck would have surly been standing straight up.

After what seemed like an eternity, Tyler finally finished. He stumbled across the line for the last time, then leaned over with his hands on his knees, desperately gasping and choking for air. He was convinced that at any moment he might cough his lungs right out of his mouth.

Tyler somehow eventually caught his breath. He turned ready to find Andy sitting on the bleachers, with the same stupid smirk plastered on his face, but he was gone. Tyler let out an audible sigh and dragged his worn body into the locker room. 

The sound of running shower water echoed off the walls and foggy steam filled the room. Tyler debated just grabbing his things and leaving. He could always just shower at home after all. But he was so exhausted, and his muscles were aching. The only thing Tyler wanted to do when he got home was climb into bed. So Tyler picked up his gym bag, and went to the showers on the other side of the locker room, trying to put as much distance between Andy and himself as possible.

Tyler turned the shower nob over to almost the hottest setting, then undressed and stepped in. he vigorously scrubbed his hair and body. The hot water stung his skin in the process, turning areas of his skin blotchy red. He didn't mind the burn, though. 

Realizing he  had spent much longer in the shower than he intended, Tyler willed himself to come from underneath the comforting burn of the hot shower water spraying down on him. He knew for a fact that his mom would be angry with him if he stayed out too late. He turned off the shower, and as his wet feet stepped out onto the cold tile floor, he was suddenly aware of how eerily quiet the locker room was. 

With a bright red towel tied around his skinny waist, he shuffled over to his things. He was grabbing his clothes  from out of his bag when a voice startled him, nearly making him drop his towel. 

"You take forever to shower, you know," the voice had said. 

Tyler turned around to find Andy leaning against the lockers with his arms crossed, his torso bare of a shirt and basketball shorts low on his hips.

"Yeah, whatever..." Tyler mumbled, not really sure what else to say or why Andy even had this sudden interest in talking to him. He 

Tyler pressed his clothes tight to his chest, thinking that maybe he's just get changed in one of the bathroom stalls. He kept his gaze on the white tile floor  he tried to walk past the muscular blonde boy in front of him. _Tried_. Andy stepped out in front of him, stopping him with a hand to his chest.

"Where are you going? Your lockers' right there." Andy pointed out. 

Tyler frowned, trying hard not to show his growing discomfort. "Well, I'm kind of, like, trying to get changed..." He said awkwardly. Again, he tried to walk past, but to no avail. 

Andy moved closer. " _I know._ "

Tyler could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. 

"I have to say," Andy began, "I do admire how hard you try."

Tyler tried hard to keep up a hard exterior, but it was crumbling fast. "What the hell are you talking about Andy?" He grumbled.

Andy took slow strides forward. Tyler took quick steps back.

"How your eyes never leave the ground when we're all getting changed. How you keep your distance on the bench during games. How you try not to stare to long at _Alex_ during practice.—"

 

Tyler's cheeks burned with heat. "You're ridicu—"

 

"—It's all a good effort. Really, it is. But you want to know what I think?" He poked Tyler hard in the chest with his finger. "I think that you're a fag _."_

 

Tyler nearly choked.  "I- I am not a- a _fag."_

Tyler hurriedly tried to back away further, but was met with the hard crash of his back against the cold, crimson lockers.

"Oh, but you are," Andy said closed the gab between them, one hand sliding onto the bare skin of Tyler's hip, the other grabbing at Tyler's hand, which was clutching at his towel so tightly that his knuckles were going  paper white. His skin was crawling under the other boy's touch. "It's all alright, Ty. No need to worry. You wanna know why?"

Tyler's breaths were fast short, coming out in quivers. His eyes wide, and glossy with panicked tears he tried rapidly to blink away. He was quickly beginning to understand what was happening. He could feel his heart in his throat, and his head raced and raced for a solution, a way out, but came across none. Suddenly, he couldn't breathe.

"Because, Tyler, I think that you are _so pretty_." Andy purred, rubbing his hand up and down Tyler's hip, "Such a pretty boy, aren't you? Pretty little waist. Pretty pink lips. I wonder what they'd look like wrapped around my—"

"Andy stop." Tyler begged breathlessly. He wanted to scream. To run. To put up any kind of fight at all. But he was frozen in place. He shook like a leaf and feeling like TV static was running through his veins. Blaring alarms were going off in his head, andthe only think he could think was how,oh god,  _he could not breath._

Andy leaned in, his lips right next to Tyler's ear. "Come on, Tyler, Let's have some fun" His warm breath made Tyler shiver. "I promise I won't tell."

 

Tears streamed down Tyler's cheeks, and he pressed the clothes in his arms hard against his chest. His chest heaved as he struggled to breath. He was suffocating. He was suffocating. The  air was being sucked right from his chest and, jesus christ, he was _suffocating._

"Andy, _please_." He managed to choke out through ragged breaths.

Andy ignored his broken plead. He brought a hand up to his tear streaked cheeks, gently wiping away at his rapidly falling tears. His other hand pried at Tyler's, his nails digging into the soft skin on Tyler's hand, tying to loosen them from the towel at his hips.

Tyler's lungs burned like fire as he frantically gasped for air, but found none. His hyperventilating was muffled when Andy moved his hand from his cheek to his mouth, in an effort to quiet him.

"Shh," Andy kissed the skin just beneath the lobe of Tyler's ear, _"You'll like this."_

**Author's Note:**

> josh comes into the story in like the next chapter or so. patience my friends.


End file.
